The normal Ethan Jamison definitely won’t cut it, her shirt alone lets me know that she doesn't give a shit what other people think of her. She doesn’t take herself too seriously. She’s different from all the other girls I know and it’s intriguing. She clears her throat and I realize that I've spaced out again. Christ, she’s gonna think I'm retarded.
I’ve finished my pizza and she’s about halfway through hers and up to this point the conversation’s been pretty standard. Although, when I talk to her, she has a way of making me feel like she’s really listening to me. I’ve managed to hold my own without making a jackass out of myself for a full thirty minutes now. This new Ethan I seem to have morphed into is pretty pleased with himself. The old Ethan would want to kick this new one’s ass. I normally don't have to try at all with girls. They seem to like the whole musician package I have going on. This girl, on the other hand, couldn't seem less impressed with that if she tried. It's refreshing.
She’s still eating and I can’t take my eyes off her mouth. At first glance, Blair is good looking—nothing special—but up close you can see she has the most amazing huge green eyes and I wonder what she looks like with her glasses off. She has the sexiest mouth I think I’ve ever seen. I shake my head to remove the inappropriate thoughts assaulting my mind of what I want to do to that mouth, or rather what I want that mouth to be doing to me. I clear my throat.
“So what music are you into?” I ask, hoping to keep the conversation going. I’m running out of things to say and I don't want to have to struggle to fill the silence. If there’s one thing I can talk forever about, it’s music.
“I guess I have eclectic taste. I like a little of everything. You know, Rihanna, The Civil Wars, John Legend, The Avett Brothers, The Stones…anything, really. My iPod’s a giant mess of songs.”
I smile inwardly at myself that she didn’t just answer pop. “Cool. So, um, what where you listening to on the way here?”
Her eyebrows draw together and she cocks her head to the side, “BonJovi, I think, why?”
I huff out a laugh; I didn’t have her pegged as liking classic rock. “I was watching you sing in your car; man, you were really going for it.”
I instantly regret bringing it up, her face has fallen and her cheeks have colored. I’m pretty sure mine match, since I’ve just admitted that I was staring at her like a creeper.
“Oh god, I'm so embarrassed! Oh, well, I suppose at least you couldn't hear me, right?”
“Don’t worry, it was equal parts funny and cute.”
“Really? Well, you gotta love BonJovi.”
She’s smiling now and it’s doing something to me. I guess it’s because she can tell she’s not the only one embarrassed. Either way, I don’t really care. I could watch this girl smile all damn day. I take a sip of my water and try think of something that will keep her smiling, because apparently the new me has developed ovaries. I almost want to run my hands over my chest to make sure I haven’t sprouted a pair of double D’s to match. In a couple of hours I’ve gone from confident musician to the kind of douche I’d normally laugh at with the guys. Holy shit, that’s a scary thought!
I’m tempted to ask her out on a date, but I have practice every night this week and Dad finding out I blew it off for a date just isn't worth it. The thought of him makes me tense and I have to concentrate on trying to relax my shoulders.
“So, I should really be getting back,” she tells me, as she pulls her napkin from her lap and bunches it up on the table.
“No problem.” Our eyes lock and when they do it feels like she can see straight through to my soul. Past all the macho bullshit. Past the cocky player. I feel like she knows all my secrets and yet she just sees me. The thought is fucking terrifying.
She leans in closer and for one second I think she’s actually making to kiss me, and then she raises her hand and brushes her fingers across my jaw.
“What happened?”
I feel lightheaded, she’s so close. Her eyes widen as she realizes that she’s touching me and pulls her hand back quickly, looking shocked at herself.
I want her hands back on me. Then I register that she’s asking about my jaw and I instantly tense.
“Oh, nothing…I took an elbow to the face shooting hoops.” I shrug, hoping she doesn't question it further.
She’s staring at me with a look in her eyes that says she doesn't believe me, but she’s not about to call me out on it. The tension’s starting to suffocate me and I need to change the subject. This girl makes me want to tell her the truth and I’ve only known her for about ten seconds.
“You free to study again Friday after practice?” I ask, noticing she’s starting to fidget with the sleeves of her jacket.
“Don’t have any plans, huh? I thought you’d be going to the party Friday night, aren’t you playing?”
“Oh, yeah that. I’d forgotten about that, I’m supposed to be going…doesn't matter if I turn up late, though, I am the star.” I meant it jokingly but out loud it just makes me sound like a prick. I want to ask her to come with me, but I’m pretty sure that she would say no and I don’t want this girl to reject me.